tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78658540730406430722012-02-16T19:36:21.224-08:00Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.comBlogger761100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-79322529420026016472011-07-19T11:56:00.000-07:002011-07-19T11:56:22.881-07:00

Because Blogger has apparently lost the ability to post comments attached to Blogger accounts, which I find vastly annoying, and because WordPress has more features and a simpler user interface, Pleading For Sanity has moved.  Please come join me again for more of the same. Thanks for the good years, Blogger. New Pleading For Sanity Blog

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-25682527778347680882011-06-29T18:20:00.000-07:002011-06-29T18:20:09.727-07:00

Listen up, everyone: impact is a noun. It is not a verb. You do not impact something, you have an impact on something. That is what the word is. That is how it is used. I stand by that. I have said it for years, often yelling it at talking heads on television, for whom the incorrect use of this noun seems very impactful (That word, actually, would be correct, though that doesn't save it from

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-76879397368108958352011-06-24T06:25:00.000-07:002011-06-24T06:25:06.694-07:00

I guess I'm no George fucking Bailey. I kinda wanted to be. I live in the right kind of place: a small town that claims to have small town values. I have the right kind of job: a school teacher, one who helps people, who helps children, in one of the most profound and lasting ways that a person can help another in this day and age: educating them. I am a good person, and I live a good life.

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-2014960371385273722011-06-18T16:26:00.000-07:002011-06-18T16:26:09.900-07:00

The school year ended this week. And it ended on a strange note. For perhaps the first time in the eleven-plus years that I've been teaching high school, this past week I liked teenagers more than adults. That never happens, and not just because I've gotten more bitter and less patient with every year that I teach. (I have, of course. It's inevitable. But that's not why this last week was

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-32001922375621453722011-06-04T15:58:00.000-07:002011-06-04T15:58:37.804-07:00

Dr. Jack Kevorkian died yesterday, of complications from pneumonia and kidney disease. He was 83. He died naturally, in a hospital bed. I know what will happen: it had already begun by the time I read the story this morning, admittedly 24 hours behind the fast-breaking news cycle that swallows us while we swallow it, an ouroboros of observer and observed. (Hm? An ouroboros? It's a snake or

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-3013376376671298282011-05-30T12:16:00.000-07:002011-05-30T14:47:30.106-07:00

"It takes a village to raise a child." But what if the village doesn't want your help? The message was sent, loud and clear. We already knew the answer, actually, though that didn't stop some of us from half-killing ourselves trying to change people's minds -- particularly Keith Meeuwsen, who deserves respect and gratitude for all his efforts. We knew that the operating levy measure here in

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-45902442161306933112011-05-28T19:28:00.001-07:002011-05-28T19:28:42.355-07:00

I want to do this now because it's still Saturday, and that means this counts. Even though I've been thinking about the weeks for this one-a-week year as beginning with Saturday and ending with Friday, still I am capable of the mental stretch necessary to include Saturday as part of the previous week. That means I'll make my deadline. I'll still be on track, on target, and will still have an

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-35056937612705580582011-05-21T09:06:00.000-07:002011-05-21T09:06:06.593-07:00

I had this story idea last night. Decided to write it for the blog this morning, since I missed last weekend -- too much work. No reason I used myself, other than I fit the character and it was easier than making someone up.

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-91694769583494688892011-05-08T11:31:00.000-07:002011-05-08T11:31:07.278-07:00

On Monday, I got a ruler. Pretty sweet, huh? See where it says YOU RULE? That's me. I rule. Superintendent Patricia Adams and the St. Helens School District Board of Directors said so, right here. And they signed it "Sincerely." Even though they put "RULE" into sarcastoquotes, which does tend to undermine the sincerity. Well, maybe those are just highlighting the pun. Which

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-38186690261631572882011-05-01T07:13:00.000-07:002011-05-01T07:14:02.118-07:00

Everything's backwards. So today, instead of a single lengthy rant, we will be featuring snippets. Thumbnail rants, if you will. Though I don't know what my thumbnail has to do with this. Because publishing is a business, maybe even an industry, I had to turn my book, my pride and joy, into an e-book and publish it myself. Agents wouldn't even look at it because it was too long for an

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-28081065899712160002011-04-24T07:27:00.000-07:002011-04-24T07:27:15.548-07:00

My dad thinks it's a good idea. The St. Helens school board would like to put it into our contract. Teachers in Denver, most famously, and many other places as well, think it is the bee's knees (Though you know what I think the bee's knees is? Other than the phrase "the bee's knees," of course? It's the name I found of a teacher in Eagle County, Colorado, when I looked for an article about

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-39622135201732334272011-04-17T07:04:00.001-07:002011-04-17T07:05:03.708-07:00

Soon I will become a published author. And I'm not sure how I feel about it.I am excited. Because people will finally get to read my book, other than my family, or the parade of folks who have had the book thrust upon them by my mother. She told me that more than one has told her that they really enjoyed it, but they just didn't have the time to read it right now. She thinks this means that

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-18388186344262150852011-04-09T19:35:00.000-07:002011-04-09T19:38:28.804-07:00

I went to a seminar this past week. And I had a problem with it.I can imagine people saying, "Don't complain -- at least you got out of going to work!" That's true. But it wasn't a pleasant getting-out-of-work, because the two days of work I missed, I actually would have been better off spending at work: Thursday was the last day of the term, when two of my classes were presenting their oral

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-70009696928958735542011-04-03T08:05:00.000-07:002011-04-03T08:13:31.074-07:00

So I'm standing at the front of my classroom, at my podium, telling my students that we are going to try looping. This is a brainstorming technique, a sort of advanced freewrite that I got out of a How to Teach Writing teacher-self-improvement book -- the kind that are often much better at making a teacher feel inadequate and lazy than they are at improving classroom instruction; but at least

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-4774489608947206232011-03-26T08:26:00.000-07:002011-03-26T08:28:32.633-07:00

I bought a book this past week called Your Hate Mail Will Be Graded, by John Scalzi, a science fiction author of some note. I have not read his work, but I absolutely love the title, and I want some inspiration for this blog, which isn't doing what I think I really want it to do, so I'm not doing something right. It's a collection of the best of Scalzi's blog, Whatever, and though I haven't

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-30246351954219382252011-03-21T10:50:00.000-07:002011-03-21T10:53:20.613-07:00

You want to know the hardest thing about being an artist? Beyond the limitless self-doubt, the constant questioning of value, of worth; far worse than the tension between the desire for an unlikely originality and the need to follow the footsteps of idolized influences, like a hound snuffling eagerly after the scent of his beloved master (except that unlike the dog I'm aware of my clumsy gait,

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-53937948848318743472011-03-13T08:35:00.000-07:002011-03-13T08:40:09.258-07:00

(Blogger's Note: I recognize just how pathetic and whiny this all sounds, considering the tragedy that is unfolding in Japan, following the earthquake and tsunami, that my unhappiness with the weather does not even register on the same scale with ten thousand or more dead and billions in damages. But a writer can only write what he knows, and I cannot begin to fathom what it must be like to go

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-60391762176026732972011-03-06T10:22:00.000-08:002011-03-06T11:27:26.831-08:00

I am sure that what I am about to say will make some people hate me. Probably not the people reading this blog, since they already knew about it and probably take my side in the matter, but if you are stumbling across this while tiptoeing through the internet, be warned: there may be hate a-comin'. Ready?I am a member of a teacher's union. Not only a member, in fact, but I'm also a client. (

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-42488229617360937322011-02-27T07:41:00.000-08:002011-02-27T11:22:13.065-08:00

I feel so small.Petty and insignificant. Look around: look at the struggles for freedom and democracy in the Middle East. While I blog about television commercials. I didn't follow the story, didn't investigate, didn't try to speak up for the right side, or speak out against the wrong side. When I saw it on the news, I turned the channel. A cashier at my local Safeway, who sees me frequently

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-33076801580417145792011-02-21T08:38:00.000-08:002011-02-21T09:02:30.991-08:00

Though I complain about it frequently, there are some things I really enjoy about my job. One of the most enjoyable aspects, fortunately, is my colleagues: they are bright, kind, funny,. considerate, and extraordinarily dedicated -- generally far more than am I. The work can be hard to handle, but my fellow teachers almost always make it easier to go on to the next class, the next day, the next

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-18643214767346684342011-02-13T09:05:00.000-08:002011-02-21T08:38:19.629-08:00

Valentine's Day is tomorrow. The day of love, the day when you show the one who completes you, the one person who matters more than anyone else on Earth, your soulmate, your other half, how very much she means to you. How does one do that, you ask? How does one express one of the most complicated and difficult -- and important -- emotions in human existence?Easy. Buy something. Maybe

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-4447753007376189662011-02-07T16:40:00.000-08:002011-02-07T17:14:30.712-08:00

I am copy-pasting and conflating the four comments my old high school buddy Sam Lunin posted on #5, Genewhosiwhatsis. I think he meant it as a single rant which he then had to break into four pieces because of the maximum length on comments allowed by this blog (I will try to change that setting, by the way, because I'm always willing to support my brethren in verbosity.) I'm doing this so I

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-9225821099665429232011-02-05T18:01:00.000-08:002011-02-05T18:04:46.329-08:00

There's something I've been struggling with lately -- and now, alas, something new rises up to obstruct me in my attempt to explain and perhaps resolve my struggles.My problem is that I don't know how polite to be, but hang on to that for a moment; I had a great idea for an opening line: I was going to give my version of What Would Jesus Do, but with a model of proper behavior, a chivalrous man's

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-72651928836247145022011-02-03T19:32:00.000-08:002011-02-03T19:35:08.728-08:00

All right, so here's what happened.I was going to write a new, updated version of one of my favorite old essays, "Mom, Apple Pie, and the Paddle," my persuasive essay example about why corporal punishment should be allowed in schools. (Brief caveat: I don't actually think we should have corporal punishment in schools. It was just an exercise in rhetoric for me, and a way to get students

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-4807856474962423952011-01-22T07:24:00.000-08:002011-01-22T07:27:12.794-08:00

Let me get straight to the point.If you mean to write, you must have a goal. That goal must be the foremost thing in your mind. Think of it as a target for your aim, if you like; I prefer to see it as the White Shores, where my ship's compass points beyond the horizon. Whatever it is to you, the one thing it must always be to your writing is: everything.I have trouble with that, I know; I

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-72261438554616191122011-01-16T11:43:00.000-08:002011-01-16T11:46:26.097-08:00

Blood is thicker than water, they say. On one level, of course that's true: blood is certainly more viscous than plain water. In the metaphor there is a special connection between two people related by blood that is not present in two people related by social acquaintance, and that special connection cannot be changed, cannot be spontaneously created or sundered just by wishing it so -- else no

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-28146183738284911852011-01-09T10:06:00.001-08:002011-01-16T11:43:37.159-08:00

"What's government if words don't have meaning?"Jared Lee Loughner wrote that on one of his YouTube videos, and I find it chilling. Not because it indicates the danger Loughner represents to our society, not because it gives a snapshot of one young man's madness, but because it's true. I'm not using any of those words lightly. Loughner represents a danger to our society, both because of what

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-11995865587956010482011-01-01T12:58:00.001-08:002011-01-01T13:07:20.814-08:00

I'm a fool. Not that this is surprising; seems like everyone's a fool, these days. Our leaders in Washington are fools, of course, Democrats and Republicans, representatives and senators, members of the Executive, Legislative, or Judicial branch. All fools. People who run the educational institution are fools, everyone from teachers to principals to superintendents, school boards, and

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-60257436505444451582010-12-29T14:32:00.000-08:002010-12-29T14:40:32.887-08:00

After many different attempts at figuring out how to upload a simple audio file with no video attached, I now present to you my reading aloud of the blog below, "Sing a Song of Christmas." The picture is Toni and I, from our very first Christmas together in Boston. It disappears after about ten minutes, because this was just supposed to be an audio file.This does include the audio clips I

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-88145895330001334182010-12-24T08:21:00.000-08:002010-12-24T08:45:08.805-08:00

I like Christmas. Let's get that out of the way right off the bat. I like the gifts, the food, the decorations. I like the friendly feelings: I like that I got to offer to help two women carry a bureau out of an antique shop, and they let me help, and thanked me. I like people wishing each other something other than a nice day -- and I like that this time of year, people mean it. I love the

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-17087606804411571772010-10-18T17:29:00.001-07:002010-10-18T17:44:19.746-07:00

(I'm posting these in reverse order so that it can read like normal people would read, from top to bottom. Read down from here until you get to 7th period, American Lit.)At the beginning of this school year, I wanted to have my students write a sample essay, so I could see what areas they need to focus on, what I need to teach them, and also so I could get to know them and their writing a little

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-76612323359464560162010-10-18T17:26:00.000-07:002010-10-18T17:46:41.638-07:00

So the first class, which is very quiet, didn't really want to suggest anything. But I actually wanted to do this, so I kept asking, until finally one girl said, "Write about unicorns."Really? Freakin' unicorns? Now, the truth is, I don't like unicorns. I never liked unicorns, not since I was ten and stopped getting much enjoyment from my three stuffed unicorns (Though I admit I did love my

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-15222887563426477662010-10-18T17:24:00.000-07:002010-10-18T17:42:31.238-07:00

This one might be my favorite; the topic suggested was, "You should write about why we have to write this essay." I love convoluted statements like that, and I love arguing with students about why they should do the work, especially something I truly believe in, like the power of writing. Plus I'm really happy with the introductory anecdote, which is also spot-on. And I got to talk about how

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-55866184811294344032010-10-18T17:19:00.000-07:002010-10-18T17:46:07.492-07:00

I'm not as happy about this one, because it made me re-evaluate my opinion at the end, which ended up making it a less than perfect response to the topic -- "Write about The Simpsons." I'm also not very happy about the beginning, and I had to lie: I have never taught "Hamlet," Simpsons version or not. But when trying to rewrite to reflect the truth -- I have used The Simpsons version of The

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-27576601970942007282010-10-18T17:15:00.000-07:002010-10-18T17:19:00.053-07:00

Totally lame (Because nobody has any idea how to deal with a teacher asking them for an essay topic): "What's your favorite movie?" I couldn't think of a topic I actually wanted to write about, until I looked up "favorite" in the dictionary and found that one possible meaning was "Most popular." Thinking about my most popular movie led to this.When I can figure out how to edit, I will post the

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-15324269748301081912010-10-18T17:14:00.000-07:002010-10-18T17:48:59.015-07:00

Their answer was, "Tell us about the spork!" The one hanging from my belt, that is. There are a lot of odd things about me. I have long hair, which is unusual for a man of my age and profession, at least in this rural area. I wear an earring; ditto. I walk more than I drive, I read more than I watch television; I talk to myself and sing when no one else is around. I have no friends, really,

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-51561498466116658612010-10-18T17:11:00.000-07:002010-10-18T17:50:15.049-07:00

This one was my one odd class, my sole 11th grade American Literature class. They had a different prompt: What do you think it means to be an American? What would make someone an American? Are there degrees -- very American, a little American -- or is it all or nothing? Is it good or bad to be an American?It was an intentionally oversized question, because I wanted to have them progress on

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-47774488121241238582010-09-08T16:38:00.000-07:002010-09-08T16:41:46.994-07:00

Maybe the best thing a new student has said to me on the first day of class: in order to make the distinction between good-natured teasing and disrespect, I asked my students if they could think of anything joking and basically harmless to say about me. After a few moments of silence (They don't know me yet, so feel awkward about mocking me -- this will not last), one of my students said, "You

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-51406886869850067442010-08-22T20:17:00.000-07:002010-08-22T20:19:04.045-07:00

I haven't been blogging this summer. It hasn't been for a lack of material; there have been a number of things that have made me mad, and had me pacing through the house ranting; this ranting, which eventually makes Toni say, "You should blog about that," is the source of almost all of my online work.. The oil spill in the Gulf was a big one, as is the mosque near Ground Zero in New York, and

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-22751421769038400682010-07-22T07:03:00.000-07:002010-07-22T07:09:03.634-07:00

I know, I know; I haven't been blogging, and anybody who used to check this site regularly and enjoy my work is probably gone now, having grown tired of waiting. Sorry about that, but I've been working on my book, along with trying to both enjoy my summer vacation and make the best use of my time, taking extension classes for work and working on the house. You understand.Here's a short thing:

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-46601252755243185092010-07-05T07:44:00.000-07:002010-07-05T07:46:13.683-07:00

On the 4th of July in 1776, the Continental Congress signed the Declaration of Independence. An extraordinary document, which challenged the divine right of kings and sought to establish the inherent rights and freedoms of every individual man, this day signaled the birth of a nation. Yesterday, 234 years after this defining moment of our history, we celebrated and commemorated that remarkable

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-15487335939638026012010-06-29T10:55:00.000-07:002010-06-29T10:57:40.002-07:00

I had a scary thought this morning. I decided to confront it, though doing so has made me wonder: is this courage? Am I facing my fears? Or is this some semi-elaborate means of further avoidance, this distraction of blogging?How do you tell what’s really going on in your own brain? I was once very smug in my brain, very happy and satisfied with what my brain could do and what it was doing.

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-10894826525152857642010-06-29T10:27:00.001-07:002010-06-29T10:37:55.176-07:00

I also need to remember that the purpose of this blog is to fight the insanity of the world around us, through an attempt to recreate a paradigm: basically world change through mass hypnosis. Mass convincing, really, but that doesn't sound as good.The problem (or one -- there are several problems, really; aren't there always?) is Facebook. Because now when I think of a small funny thing, or

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-32199625970717186922010-05-13T17:49:00.000-07:002010-05-13T18:35:37.129-07:00

I have a new enemy.My old enemies list included ignorance; cruelty; indifference to the suffering of others caused by one's own actions; greed; and fanaticism. I hate ignorance because it is so simple to remedy, and it creates so many opportunities for wrongdoing. Ignorance breeds contempt, and then turns its back and waits, all unknowing, for the fall of the contemptuous lash. Worst of all is

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-28774692838058732412010-05-09T09:06:00.001-07:002010-05-09T17:22:14.201-07:00

I just got finished with this entire rant about food and agribusiness and corn -- and it's a good'un! -- and then I realized. Today is Mother's Day. What am I doing, writing depressing things on Mother's Day? This is not a day for thinking about how screwed up our world is; this is a day for thinking about the things that, against all odds, we still get right.This is what we get right: love.

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-26111692195730529722010-04-25T09:14:00.000-07:002010-04-25T10:12:26.522-07:00

What's so great about capitalism anyway?I've never studied economics. I don't care for math, I don't care for money, I've never wanted to become rich. (Am I just imagining the spit takes as people read that?) I've never really understood capitalism. I am a bit fearful of talking about it, because I was made to look like a complete fool when I stated my own characterization of capitalism on my

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-20279940338300616972010-04-21T19:15:00.000-07:002010-04-21T19:28:00.146-07:00

As a contrast to my last post, which was apropos of nothing at all (You know, that may be the first time I have ever used the word "apropos." That's one of those words that I wasn't sure how to pronounce for a long time. Like "awry" and "err," which I originally pronounced as [ORR-y] and [UHR]. Or is it that it's actually pronounced [UHR] and I used to say [AIR]? Do you have any idea how

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-67957982182588337442010-04-17T08:39:00.000-07:002010-04-17T08:40:42.515-07:00

This is problem I never really thought I would have: it's hard to know what to write about.I'm not Stephen King; I'm not Vincent Van Gogh. I'm not one of those manic artist types overflowing with ideas and imaginations; I don't ever remember my dreams, and I don't spend nearly enough time just sitting around and thinking.I've gotta work on that.The point is, I've never had trouble with deciding

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-70229290378749350572010-04-04T09:28:00.000-07:002010-04-04T09:57:42.541-07:00

The Easter Bunny came last night and left me almost two dozen eggs full of my two favorite candies in the world, Cadbury Creme Eggs and Snicker Eggs, along with a large bowl of straight chocolate eggs -- presumably for use as chasers, or palate cleansers. In order to honor such kindness on the part of the magical rabbit, and also to thank my lovely wife, who acted as intermediary in the

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-78668216667744425402010-03-14T12:57:00.000-07:002010-03-14T13:01:24.971-07:00

I'm sick of it.I have learned all of the cliches: money isn't everything. A fool and his money are soon parted. The best things in life are free. A penny saved is a penny earned. Money makes the world go round. Patrick Dempsey taught me that money can't buy me love, and also that money can't make you cool -- and as funny as it sounds, I actually sort of mean that. I did learn that money

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-84136581749975900452010-03-06T16:20:00.001-08:002010-03-06T17:23:04.806-08:00

This past week, I had to ask my students to write yet another standardized essay, the second of three this year. They were understandably annoyed, and thus (perhaps less understandably -- or maybe I just don't want to understand) annoying. In an attempt to ameliorate this assignment in some way, I decided to take part in it along with them, so while my Honors classes wrote their essays, I sat

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-56211011214589401542010-03-01T18:45:00.000-08:002010-03-01T19:42:36.215-08:00

(Second in our continuing saga of corporate greed in America)There's a commercial, or rather a series of commercials, that have come on recently which are trying to put a new spin on the standard black-hat villains of the corporate world. I've seen one about the miracle of coal, which provides all of our energy at such a wonderfully economical price -- only, what, 5000 miners dead a year from

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-78008262083872079902010-02-24T17:15:00.001-08:002010-02-24T18:25:43.776-08:00

So the military thinks it shouldn't overturn the "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy. Well, some of them do; Admiral Mike Mullen, the head of the joint chiefs of staff (who hereby gets a pass on every insult I am about to level against the US military) explained, in little words, exactly why the policy should be overturned and homosexuals should be allowed to serve openly in the military: because the

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-84074540881398113582010-02-21T17:20:00.000-08:002010-02-21T17:22:11.514-08:00

(This will be the first of what I plan to make a continuing series on corporate greed in America.)Imagine this, if you will (And if you've ever been a fan of mafia movies, or have worked in corporate America, this should be cake.): an associate of yours greets you fondly, gives you a firm handshake and a manly clap on the shoulder -- and then slides a pistol out of a holster and presses it

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-50936729470568876522010-02-18T19:16:00.000-08:002010-02-18T19:20:34.791-08:00

All right, before we get to the topic for today, we have to get something out of the way: Toni and I talk to our pets. In fact, she's doing it right now, as I type this; she is explaining to our dog, Charlie, exactly why she will not be taking him for a walk right now (He already had a walk this afternoon. He only gets one walk a day. There are pulling issues, and Toni needs at least one

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-47304653652985439062010-02-06T22:52:00.001-08:002010-02-07T21:11:34.130-08:00

There's a scene in Fahrenheit 451 when Guy Montag, the rebellious book-burner-cum-book-reader, is trying to read a book while he rides the subway; he is desperate to find some meaning in the books, something to explain the terrible things he has seen around him, and he knows he has very little time to find his answer, so he is trying wholeheartedly to read it all and remember it all. He likens

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-79363184832184415342010-01-29T06:58:00.000-08:002010-01-29T07:02:15.558-08:00

Forgive the lack of blogging this week; I've been grading like a fiend. Well, maybe not that evilly. Here's a little something to think about. I got a form from my district, asking me to provide proof that I'm not an illegal alien. Homeland Security has notified our Human Resources department that they will be doing random surveys of this information, and apparently, we are not totally

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-50160905325030226532010-01-24T07:06:00.000-08:002010-01-24T09:10:23.934-08:00

Toni and I haven't had broadcast television for the last three years, so you'll have to forgive me if I'm a little out of date with my confustication and ire. Since we recently got cable again, we've seen quite a few things that I would consider travesties, tragedies, or obscenities -- BBQ Pitmasters, Human Wrecking Balls, Swamp Loggers and Ice Truckers, Wipeout, and so on, so on. I'm not sure

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-37816487946914501052010-01-20T18:13:00.000-08:002010-01-20T18:50:54.990-08:00

. . . as long as you replace "end" with "continuation," and "world" with "political clusterfuck in America."And I feel fine.Yes, okay: Republican Scott Brown won the race in Massachusetts, and he will replace the late Edward Kennedy, who represented the Commonwealth for forty years. Yes: that does mean the Democrats lose their filibuster-proof supermajority in the Senate.Yes: it probably does

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-79877577734434451262010-01-16T12:16:00.001-08:002010-01-16T12:34:06.176-08:00

That's right! Now when people ask, "St. Helens? Is that near the volcano?" we St. Helensians can say, "YES!"Because we built our own.The amazing part to me is that the town leaders believed, somehow, that this would draw tourists in to the downtown area. Because there are a few problems with that.First of all, the volcano is not on the main highway, which would be the right place to put a

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-43213111234825007612010-01-11T17:37:00.000-08:002010-01-11T17:37:48.172-08:00

Look --- Mark McGwire used steroids. No, it isn't a surprise. I don't think there was any doubt, considering how much bigger he was during the 70-HR year compared to his younger years playing for the Oakland A's. But goddamnit. Confession time: for as much as I rail about sports, there was a time when I followed sports, when I enjoyed watching the games, in person and on TV, and when I cared

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-62666497894976533492010-01-09T19:25:00.000-08:002010-01-09T19:25:38.194-08:00

Look -- China has learned to work the system. That's a direct quote. From a congressman who said that our traditional allies -- England, France, Germany -- have known how to "work the system" for years, and China is just now catching up. Evidence that they have learned to work the system? Congress has started approving legislation and such that is more favorable to China, less favorable to

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-89710352792802956152010-01-07T18:10:00.000-08:002010-01-07T18:10:24.121-08:00

Because I had sourdough toast for breakfast. Because I got to read part of a good book. (The Name of the Wind, by Patrick Rothfuss) Because I got to tuck my dog in under a blanket while I read the book. Because I walked to work, with music in my ears, and did the same coming home. Because on that walk home, I wasn't in the mood for radio and I didn't have any heavy metal on my MP3 player -

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-40038216732287423832010-01-05T18:46:00.000-08:002010-01-05T18:46:14.197-08:00

So I've been putting together an amusing and witty personalized version of the Twelve Days of Christmas on Facebook, mainly to honor my sweet, generous, thoughtful wife for her Christmas gifts to me, but also to show off me'sa mad skillz(You're goddamn right that's a Jar Jar Binks reference). Here's what we've had so far: First day: On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, a

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-88815679590246553252010-01-03T10:05:00.000-08:002010-01-03T10:11:09.216-08:00

I read A.J. Jacobs's fine book The Guinea Pig Diaries last week -- it was a Christmas present from Toni, and a hell of a smart one -- and it brought me to the topic of honesty. In the book, Jacobs tries several different lifestyles, pursuing each for a month (or so), to see what comes of living this way or that. He tries outsourcing his personal life for a month, hiring an assistant in India to

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-17436051026532412902010-01-01T00:34:00.000-08:002010-01-01T00:34:02.556-08:00

I'm trying to decide whether to be superstitious or not. Here it is: the New Year. 2010. It was 2009 only a few minutes ago; we rolled over a whole new digit -- two whole new digits, in fact. And there is a very strong pull towards significance, a gravity made of meaning: I am tempted to mark every action, almost every thought. This is the first kiss I will have in 2010. This is the first

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-60886048820036326462009-12-21T09:48:00.001-08:002009-12-21T11:14:10.282-08:00

When we bought this house, we knew the roof was bad. It looked old and saggy around the edges, and it was covered with moss -- sort of like the pizza you left out one day too many in college. The home inspector told us we had five, maybe seven years left on it if we were lucky. And now, four and a half years later, our roof sprung its first leak. It wasn't a serious one, just a little water

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-12172282812366764322009-12-18T21:34:00.000-08:002009-12-18T22:02:10.365-08:00

So tonight, Toni and I got to hear some music for the tone deaf. A former student of mine, now a senior, set up a benefit concert for her Senior Project -- just two bands in the high school's Commons, proceeds going to fund the Safe and Sober party on Graduation Night in June. She asked me, I don't remember when, if I would be willing to chaperone, and in a weak moment, I agreed. Imagine my

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-69788906614129615082009-12-16T16:11:00.000-08:002009-12-16T16:11:08.141-08:00

We watched a special on Wal-Mart the other night -- surprisingly enough, it wasn't called "The Evilest Place On Earth!" -- and a couple of things struck me. First of all, the CEO of Wal-Mart, Mike Duke (also known as Mammon, or maybe Mike D [**Extra credit to anyone who can supply the appropriate Beastie Boys lyric right here -- hint: it's from Paul Revere]), was asked how he can justify the

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-87039986489721214732009-12-15T18:02:00.000-08:002009-12-15T18:36:24.844-08:00

Bring back the Gipper! The best part -- apart from the fantastic groaning, of course -- is the line about the Republican candidates not representing the party's core ideals as well as a 100-year-old dead man. And the scroll at the bottom is pretty amusing, too -- especially the infant implicated in the daycare stabbing who will be tried as a toddler. I like that. It scares me that this is

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-36103872212948184552009-12-12T13:51:00.000-08:002009-12-12T13:51:33.279-08:00

Great headline: E-mails show pettiness, not fraud Because sometimes scientists get pissy, too -- but unlike Sarah fucking Palin, they generally do not out-and-out lie. Shove it up yer death panel, Sarah.

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-4022358409409515002009-12-06T13:58:00.000-08:002009-12-06T13:58:10.804-08:00

It always seems like I have too many things to do, and not enough time to do them in. Yesterday (Saturday) I was trying to plan today (Sunday -- which should be Sloth Day, and usually is in our house, when we lay around and do as little as possible beyond eat, sleep, and breathe), and getting a little worked up because I put some things off from Saturday. But I can't put them off until next

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-90154028339338438492009-12-04T07:21:00.000-08:002009-12-04T07:21:36.997-08:00

Why do pimples have to hurt? Why do I have to get them on the places I tend to touch my face the most? I know, I know -- oil and dirt on my hands, gets into my pores, makes a pimple. But why haven't we evolved a better way to handle dirt on our skin? What's the evolutionary advantage of a zit? And if they don't appear until puberty, why the HELL don't they go away after puberty is over?

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-91553650203877630922009-12-01T16:51:00.000-08:002009-12-01T16:51:10.438-08:00

Have to keep it brief today -- I have a pain in me gulliver. You can expect a future post concerning the madness that is our society's view of police officers as the enemy (and the ways in which police are forced by our system to be our enemies) that leads to four cops being ambushed and killed in a coffee shop. Because that's a whole lot of fucked up. But for today: my iguana ate salad this

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-40755382763068330002009-11-29T09:56:00.001-08:002009-11-29T09:58:37.520-08:00

I don't even know where to start. That's probably the biggest one.I want to get this right. I've done a lot of things wrong, done a lot of wrong things, wrongly done things -- and I've done nothing, too, more than I like to think about. We all have. It's hard to get things right, especially when you can't really know what the right thing is. All around you there are millions -- billions --

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7865854073040643072.post-20525771323589497072009-11-28T20:21:00.000-08:002009-11-28T20:23:56.313-08:00

Same as the Old Blog, except this one will combine both long and short pieces, and focus on one thing:Please. We need to do something about this. About all of it. We don't need to do a lot, I don't believe; only a little piece at a time, because every small deflection now will lead to a wider and wider variance from the current course over time. But there are so many things that need small

Dustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14703985239518732600noreply@blogger.com0